Sex On Fire
by HiAliceCullan
Summary: A take on Jared and Kim's story. A rational reacting to him finally noticing her - not the silent treatment. Basically, it's different then other Jared/Kim imprint stories. Give it a try. Rated M for later themes.


**So, I totally forgot that Kim's last name was Connweller. How? I'm not sure. But I fixed it. Sorry!  
And, I totally used Conwell as a last name for other characters... so I was close right!? Haha.**

"I wanna be somewhere where you are.

I wanna be, where you - you're here.

Your eyes are looking into mine. So baby make me fly.

My heart has never felt this way before.

I'm looking through your - I'm looking through your eyes."

INTRODUCTION

I never really thought about what it would feel like to have someone watch your every move. Have their heart skip a beat when you stumble in the hallway. Constantly worry about your well being. Well… I guess I couldn't imagine anyone but my father worrying about that kind of stuff. While most people have a group of friends or family members to watch out for their wellbeing, I have… no one, basically. Unless you count my best friend Steven or.. You know. My dad. Before I get too ahead of myself, I should probably tell you who I am. That's what I was taught to do anyway. No one wants to listen to someone, whose name they don't even know, ramble on about their life story. I'm Kim. Kim Connweller. Yes, my name is as boring as I am. Now, that sounds sad, doesn't it? Me calling myself boring. Though, really, it's not like I'm lying or trying to make you feel bad for me. No. I'm boring. A fact that many do know about me. Actually, I believe that if you look under the "Most Likely" section in the yearbook, I'm not even in there. And everyone is. I'm not even the "Most Likely To Be Forgotten" person. Nope, even they're gonna be remembered more then I am. Thanks yearbook staff. You're doing a wonderful job.

Sorry, I'm still rambling, aren't I? I tend to do that a lot. Please, feel free to stop me at anytime. People often do. Well… when there's that rare time that I actually speak. I guess this is the part where I start to tell you a little about myself and what you'll be reading in the pages to come. As I've stated before, up there, I'm Kim Connweller. Kimberly if you're feeling frisky. I was seventeen years old when my life was turned upside down, but there's me getting ahead of myself, once again. I really need to stop doing that.

Actually, that was the second time that my life was turned upside down. The first time was when I was fourteen and my mother died. Tragically. You know the deal. A drunk driver gets into a car, without thinking because, hey, he's drunk. So, he's driving down the road, swerving all over and just a few yards away is an innocent driver trying to get to the school to pick up her kid. Mr. Drunk Asshole is too intoxicated to know what's going on and slams he's big pickup into a tiny little Volkswagen. No big deal for him because he's alright, but the poor woman in the other car isn't so lucky. That women, my mother, is dead. All because some asshole wanted to get drunk at 2 in the afternoon.

Well, enough of that. I'm tearing up just thinking about it. My life is completely different now. I'm nineteen, out of high school and totally and completely in love with… well, you'll find out now won't you? Go on. Read about my life. Maybe you'll find out I'm not so boring after all.

Or… you know… I could be…

CHATPER ONE

Cake Face

You know that feeling when you're about to wake up, but you're not fully there yet? How stuff that's happening in real life feels like it's happening in your dream, because it really is? I hate that feeling. It ruins a perfectly good dream. I was sitting in history class, only it wasn't really a class because there was no one else in the room except for me. So there I sat, alone, fiddling with the text book pages, waiting for someone to show up. I stared up at the miniature clock that hung on the wall above the chalkboard, watching the seconds hand tick away, but the minute and hour hands never moved. I sighed, and slammed my head down on my book, expecting it to hurt, but nothing ever hurts in a dream. I could hear the commotion of people outside of the room, but no one entered. Not even a teacher. Until I felt a presence. I knew that presence by heart.

I slowly lifted my head from my book and glanced around the room, noticing no one. Obviously, I had only wanted someone to be in the room with me so I imagined a presence. So there was dream-me sitting alone. And then somehow in my unconsciousness state of mind, I realized that I could change whatever I wanted to in my dream, so I thought of what I wanted. Or rather - who. Dream-me squeezed her eyes shut and then quickly opened them back up. Now, instead of being alone, a tall, lanky figure sat next to me. His long hair was covering his face in a brooding sort of way. God, I loved that hair. And those beautiful cheekbones. Good lord. Was it possible to orgasm in a dream just by looking at an imitation person? I was probably about to prove it possible. Not that'd I'd know what an orgasm felt like. I'm a virgin.

Suddenly, he turned his head towards me and smiled, getting ready to speak. Those lips. God, just kill me now, Dream-me thought. I wanted to ravish him without ever saying a word. Have him take my virginity. His perfectly full lips started mouthing words, "Kim. Kim wake up." Dream-me's face contorted with confusion as he continued mouthing words. "Wake up, Kim! Kim! WAKE THE FUCK UP!" Then the dream twisted to black and my eyes popped open, only to see my best friend, Steven, his own face distorted into frustration.

"Fuck, Kim. We're gonna be late now. Get your ass up." Steven looked, well, like Steven. Girl's at school would describe him in one word - afuckingnativeamericanadonis. Yes, with no breaths in between words, so technically, it's one word. To be honest, I'm not really sure why he's friends with me. It probably has something to do with the fact that he feels obligated since we've known each other since we were in diapers. Which isn't really saying anything, though, since most people have around here. La Push isn't big at all. Whatever. I'll take it. He hasn't abandoned me yet, so I'd say he's a keeper. Steven was one of the only guys in school who didn't have long hair. He just didn't like it. And to be honest, he's right to keep it short. I've seen that mop long and let's just say, before puberty and all his 'hotness' formed, Steven was often called 'Pube Head'. Very, very classy, I'd say. But ever since then, he's made sure to keep it short in fear of ever being mistaken for having pubic hair on his head.

"'Scuse me for liking to sleep, Stevie." I pulled the blankets off of my legs and rolled out of bed. He flinched at the nickname I'd given him when we were five. For some reason, it was just easier for me to say then Steven and it's stuck ever since. I stumbled to my closet, my eyes still half closed. I glanced back at my alarm clock, realization dawning on me.

"You fucking asshole! Steven, I could kill you!" A smirk formed on his face, making his jaw line stand out famously. Even though he was my best friend, even I could admit it. Steven was a sex bomb. I'd be lying if I said otherwise. I grabbed the alarm clock and shoved it in his face.

"Seven AM on a Sunday!" He shoved the digital clock away from his face and set it back on my nightstand. "What the hell would possess you to wake me up this early?" My hand twitched towards the clock again, wanting to throw it at him for being a jerk. He knew I wasn't a morning person.

"Rise and shine, sleepy head. Isn't that the saying? Anyway, I wanted to head to Port Angeles for the day. I'm in serious need of some new kicks. Whatcha say?" His little smirk still hadn't left his face, and while it normally worked on everyone else, I could see right through it. Whenever that smirk made an appearance, no matter how charming and innocent it looked, he was thinking something devious behind it.

"And the catch is?" I asked grabbing my hairbrush and sitting on the stool in front of my vanity, brushing the knots out of my long hair. I grimaced at a particular knot in the back of my head. I really need to start sleeping with a hairnet or something. I glanced at Steven, who was lounging back on my bed, looking right at home.

"No catch, Kimber. Just a day hanging out with me," he coughed, muttering something else under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Just a day with your best friend… and a few other people." He stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets, walking towards my door. "I'm gonna let you get read now." He was halfway out the door when I advanced towards him.

"What other people, Steven?" I demanded, standing on my tiptoes to get a good look at him. His eyes were shifting back and forth, which meant his felt guilty, which probably meant that he hadn't been the one that invited the people.

"I'm going to kill Paul!" I shouted, stomping back over to my bed and flopping down on it. The pressure from me hitting the bed, caused me to bouce back up one more time. Any other time, I would have found that amusing, but I was too irritated to let something like that distract me.

See, Paul was one of Steven's new found friends. I don't know how, and I don't know why, but for whatever reason, it was there. They hung out all the time lately. Paul Buckley wasn't someone I held high on my respectable people list. No, quite the opposite actually. He was rude, crude, loud, angry - all of the things I usually hated in people. Not that he'd ever done anything to me, but his very presence pissed me off. Especially when he went on rants about how me and Steven were probably secretly fucking each other. Steven never denied it either, which would piss me off even more.

There was just something about Paul that didn't feel right to me. And even more lately then Paul and Steven hanging out, Paul has the tendency to invite whoever he wants with him, not caring about what me and Steven want. No. Paul is Paul and he's gonna do whatever he wants to do even if that means inviting my long time crush with us wherever we go.

Jared Tal. Just the sound of his name was enough to get me hot. Seriously. Steven may be considered the best looking guy in our school to other girls, but Jared had something about him that I couldn't resist. Maybe it was the fact that he was shy and kind of sullen and mysterious. The way his hair hid half of his face all the time was even attractive to me. And, before you start thinking 'emo hair', that's not it at all. He's got this beautiful long hair down to his shoulders that's parted to the right side. It's even better then my hair, and my hair is probably the only thing people will ever envy about me.

Jared and Paul were not the two people I'd ever expected to be hanging out together. Although, Jared never seems to want to be around Paul. Whenever Paul tries to talk to him, he just glares and puts more distance between the two of them. But, I don't actually know what Paul tries to talk to him about since it's never above a whisper. Maybe he's hitting on him. Huh. Paul Buckley - gay. No, probably not. That guy loves anything with a vagina.

"Come on, Kimber. Paul and Jared aren't that bad. Well… I'll leave Paul out, but Jared's a pretty cool guy. Which is weird, since I never pictured him to be that way." Steven leaned against my doorpost looking like an Abercrombie model. Jesus. I'm not even friends with a girl and I'm still outshined looks wise. My life is hell.

"Well, yes it does, Steven. You know that I… have to work at the shop today. I was hoping that you'd help me?" I batted my eyelashes, hoping that somehow over night I had acquired flirting skills. All I got back in return was an eye roll so I'm thinking that it didn't work too well.

"You're always working at the shop. Let your dad do it today." He walked over and sat next to me on my bed, taking up almost all of it. He mimicked my action of batting his eyelashes. Only on him - it worked.

"Can't we just go there, have your friends meet you and then you can go? Just the three of you."

"What's a day without my best friend?" He gave a devious smirk and started tickling my abdomen. I squealed loudly, sounding like a pig being corrupted or something of the sort. My laughter busted out and my stomach muscles clenched. I clutched my sides and started wheezing.

"Jesus, are you trying to kill me? I can't breathe!" The tickling stop and he resumed his former position, pouting at me.

"I really hate you. But we're still going to the shop first!" I replied as I headed out of the room to take a shower. I heard him whine behind me, muttering something about smelling like cake for the rest of the day.

See, before my mom died, she wanted to open a cake shop. She loved to bake. Anything she could get her hands on that was delicious and edible was in her cakes. I remember one specific cake from a few years ago. Vanilla cake with a raspberry swirl in the middle topped off with white chocolate frosting and raspberries scattered along the layers. It was the hit of the party. I remember thinking it was all gone and being so completely disappointed only to find out that mom had stashed a piece for me under the table. It was her dream to have other people eat and praise her cakes.

So when she died, Dad started up the shop - Cake Face. I'm never letting him name anything ever again, because not only does that represent something girls are scared to death of, but I wouldn't want to eat at a place with the words 'cake' and 'face' because they don't really create a wonderful picture.

Anyway, we're pretty much the only real place around Forks and La Push where you can buy any kind of pastry. Now, I wouldn't usually call myself rich, but with an advantage like that, we can't really be poor. I don't usually flaunt my family's wealth - actually, I try to hide it more then anything. I don't want people to pretend to like me just so that I can have friends. I mean, what's the point of a friend that doesn't even really like you? I know I don't have to worry about Steven. He could care less that I have money. Plus, he practically gets an allowance from my dad since he's always here doing something.

---

After my morning rituals that consisted of showering, getting dressed and eating, I grabbed my keys and shoved Steven into my old, 1969 Volkswagen beetle. The ride there was fairly silent, the only noise being Steven humming one of his favorite songs. That was the only bad thing about my car, or Sally, as I call her. She didn't have a radio - well, a working one anyway. Other then that, I loved her like she was my own child. Dad had just gotten her repainted for my birthday. Her old dull navy blue color was nothing to the new, sleek, black she was sporting. It was like falling in love all over again.

The ride barely took five minutes, since La Push isn't abnormally big or crowded. I parked around the back of the shop, the usual place and climbed out of my car. Steven shuffled in behind me slamming his fingers against the keys of his cell phone, no doubt telling Paul to meet him here. While he was busy typing and backspacing in frustration, I unlocked the shop and started the day off. Dad had left a list of to do things on the counter like he always did. I grabbed it and got to work.

"Of course. The stupid Conwell's would need five batches of cupcakes by twelve today." I huffed and pulled out the ingredients.

The Conwell's were frequent costumers and while me and Dad greatly appreciated it; they always made stupid requests. I could have the cupcakes done, of course, but that means I'd have to put off some of the other orders off until I finished. And it's not like I'd have any help. Dad doesn't want to hire anyone but family members, because he'd have to pay them. He calls it smart, I call it dumb. Once in awhile I can get Steven to help me out, but I doubted that this was one of those times since he was still hunched over his phone.

"Damn it." Steven muttered as he slammed his phone shut only to open it back up a few seconds later and start typing into it again. I never really understood the appeal of text messaging. It's so much easier to just pick up the phone and call the person. It saves a lot of frustration and time, but try explaining that to Steven. He doesn't take it groaned again and shoved the phone in his pocket. "Can I use the phone?" He smiled innocently at me. I raised and eyebrow to his question. "I don't have enough service." He admitted. I smirked and nodded towards the phone. Once again, my point is proven.

I really try not to listen to other people's conversations. Really, I do and I was succeeding for the first few minutes of Steven's conversation. Until…

"Alright, fine." A few seconds of silence and then, "Yeah, Jared? Let me guess - Paul doesn't know where the hell he's going." The spatula I was using to stir the batter flew out of my hands and to Steven's feet, missing his new shoes by just a few inches. My mouth gaped open and my eyes widened. Jared. How in the short amount of time had I forgotten that Jared was coming with Paul? I didn't even think about it once from the time Steven mentioned it until he started talking to him. I freaked out, trying to find a reflective surface anywhere in the kitchen. I grabbed the closest silver utensil to me - a soon. I desperately peered at myself, mulling over the way I looked. My mascara had smeared under my eye at some point and my hair was starting to wave again. Just my luck. Out of all the days not to use hairspray, I picked this day.

I began beating my hair down with my hands, hoping to smooth it out without Steven noticing, cause that would only call for comments from him. The one thing Steven didn't know about me was that I had a crush on Jared. He actually thought I didn't like him at all because he hung out with Paul, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. I've liked Jared ever since the first day of the school year. I was seated next to him in history class, but it's not like that's important. Jared hasn't even noticed me. He's so shy and quiet that he hardly even looks up from his desk, his dark, curly hair covering his eyes. But, then again, that was before he started hanging out with Paul, so maybe he's not as shy anymore.

"Oh, for real? Dude, you're like a minute away then. Sweet. Come through the back." And with that he hung up, and I was freaking out even more. All I could picture was that beautiful boy coming through the back door, spotting me and then cringing. Just what I would need. Lower confidence.

"Kim… you alright?" I hadn't realized I spaced out. Obviously. Steven's voice sounded like it was light years away from me. I snapped my eyes closed to bring myself back to reality. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine." I Shoved the pan into the oven and brushed my hands off on a towel. Usually I'd use my pants for that, but there was no way I'd be doing that today.

"You don't look fine. You look pale actually." Honestly, this was one of those times where I hated being someone who always had color to them. I really envied Irish people right then. God, being naturally pale would have been so wonderful right then.

I shrugged it off and stared at the timer on the oven, just for something to do. The seconds seemed to be ticking away faster then usual and it seemed like the longer I watched it, the faster they went. It was only a matter of time before the back door opened and in came Paul Buckley, looking as big, muscular and scary as ever. He literally had to duck coming in the back door and of course he was as dramatic about that as he could possibly be.

"You need a taller door. Someone could kill themselves coming in here." He gave a pointed look at me and then headed towards Steven, doing that man hug thing. I, on the other hand, was staring at the door, watching as it opened once again but to reveal a tall - extremely tall - lanky figure with that familiar brown hair. Only, something was different. He was taller, most definitely taller. Even more so then he used to be. Standing next to Paul he looked giant. I'd say around 6'6", which was a hell lot taller then he used to be and I'd know that. I thought back to the last time I'd seen him. It was before Christmas break he'd been around six foot then, but still, even that was tall.

Luckily his gaze was on the floor the entire time I was staring at him. I tried my hardest not to stare at him, but his growth spurt was just so surprising. Shouldn't a seventeen year old already be his given height? I snapped myself out of my daze and turned towards Steven and Paul. They were deep in conversation about something that I wasn't sure of. I felt extremely awkward. Hell, I mean, how could I not? I was standing in the same room as the love of my life and I had nothing to say. But, he was kind of in the same situation. Except for the whole 'love of his life' thing.

"I've gotta piss. Where's your bathroom?" Paul rudely interrupted my thoughts. I nodded towards the back, too scared to talk in case my voice cracked or something similar to that. Nodding was a safe choice to save myself from embarrassment. He grunted and stalked into the bathroom, closing the door louder then necessary. I rolled my eyes and glared at Steven who just gave an apologetic smile.

My eyes unwilling traveled back to Jared. I hadn't exactly been in the right state of mind to evaluate his demeanor before but now that I'd had time to adjust to his presence, it was almost shockingly clear how different it was. His shoulders became less tense and he stood up a bit straighter, and surprisingly, his gaze wasn't on the floor. He was actually in a conversation with Steven. The sound of his voice was music to my ears. I've only heard it on the rare occasion that the teacher would call on him in class, since he wouldn't voluntarily raise his hand. Steven said something stupid and Jared's face broke out with a smile. My breath literally caught in my throat as I watched his lips part and his gorgeous teeth reveal themselves.

I'd almost forgotten about Steven and Paul being in the same building, let alone world, with me and Jared until Paul threw the bathroom door open and walked out, wiping his hands on his pants. Hopefully it was water he was wiping off.

That's when I noticed it. Jared's former stance and demeanor had changed once again. He was back to his stiff, almost statue like posture. His shoulders were hunched with tension and his eyes were back to examining his feet. Was he scared of Paul? No, that couldn't have been it because why would he willingly hang out with him? Or maybe he wasn't. Maybe Paul was forcing him to hang out with him… but then again, why would Paul force someone to hang out with him?

"As much as I love food," Paul said gazing almost lovingly at a cake that was sitting on the shelf. "I'd love it if we could go check out those bikes in Port Angeles." He rubbed his giant hands together, his eyes dancing at the mention of bikes. Steven mumbled a yes and then turned towards me.

"Are you going?"

I sheepishly shook my head no. I could see Steven's face drop with disappointment yet his eyes still held the desire to go to Port Angeles with Paul and Jared. "Are you sure?" He walked closer to me and looked directly in my eyes. I nodded my head and gestured towards Paul who looked like he was gonna shit himself if he didn't get in a car to get to Port Angeles within the next minute. Steven still wasn't budging. He stared at me intently, almost like he could use mind control to force me into going.

"Go." I whispered so that only he could hear me. He nodded hesitantly and turned to leave, gesturing for Paul and Jared to leave with him. He waved and headed out the door, Paul following, practically glowing. He raised his eyebrows at me and smirked. I rolled my eyes at his obnoxiousness. Jared was the last one out the door. He turned slightly, enough to see me, and looked directly at me for just a second, but it was enough to make me panting.

Hello, Jared Tal.


End file.
